Indigo Lightning
by Kilron
Summary: Indigo Lightning follows Captain Falcon, F-Zero pilot and accomplished Smash veteran. Everything seems to be going his way; he's friendly, popular, handsome, and kind. But amid constant praise and the best friends a guy could have, Falcon continually withdraws himself from his colleagues. Who knows; is there more to the shallow 3rd-person-life-narrating playboy than meets the eye?
1. Chapter 1

**[Author's Note:]**

 **This is my first fanfiction work of (hopefully) many to come. I was a tad disappointed at the lack of C.F.-featuring pieces on here, so I started writing one. Rated M mostly because I don't know if I can change it later, and want to have my bases covered. Anticipate some language, violence, sexual content, possible substance abuse, and a strong possibility of {FalconxSamus} as the series progresses. Feel free to give feedback, review, and all that jazz. Enjoy!**

 **[Disclaimer:]**

 **I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights for Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.**

 **1**

Falcon gritted his teeth, his lungs pressing firmly against the back of his chest cavity. The distorted sights of various landscapes and vistas shot past his viewport, barely registering their tranquil beauty before trailing swiftly out of sight. He could barely breathe, and his heart was forced into working overtime to compensate for the intense gravitic stress exerted throughout the cockpit that surrounded him. The pain and pressure in his bodily cavities was present as usual, but it no longer bothered him; Captain Falcon had grown used to it in his racing career, even as lesser humanoids would have buckled under such stress. If anything, the intense G-forces that accompany piloting an F-Zero racing machine had become an addiction for Falcon – but not comparable to a drug addiction. Cutting across time and space was something more to him – something… _intimate…_ and he couldn't possibly keep himself from it. It was entirely irreplaceable in his heart and his mind. No, all Falcon could do was press his helmeted head back into the headrest, and remain utterly euphoric. After a lifetime of anti-gravity racing at unholy speeds, there was nothing he had yet experienced that could get his adrenaline pumping, such as that of hurdling through air at over 400 miles per hour in his beloved Blue Falcon aero-racer.

Well, _Smash!_ Tournaments ran a close second.

The Blue Falcon let out a primal screech as its aging aero-dampers brought it stuttering to a halt (at this, Captain Falcon made a mental note to replace his esteemed chariot's brakes), and it spun into a sideways air-strafe that was violent, but deliberate. Captain Falcon himself yanked on the ejection hatch immediately next to his left hand, causing the cockpit's entry hatch to erupt from its resting position with a start. Wind from the air outside of the sealed racer gusted into the Blue Falcon's cabin, now unobstructed by the protective casing of bulletproof glass.

The Captain boosted himself out of his seat midflight – he couldn't imagine life without its theatrics – and, the moment he had cleared the pilot seat, he dismissed his joyride via a convenient, wrist-mounted remote control. In the heat of his entrance, he barely heard Master Hand's booming count-off to the start of the match, only just arriving in time to hear the tail end of it:

"…1…GOOO!"

Captain Falcon's eyes darted across the stage – mere seconds of idle preparation would permit him to gain his bearings before attacks came flying in from his opponent. He rapidly took stock of his scenario.

The stage: _Boxing Ring_ from _Punch Out!_

His opponent: _Mario_.

Captain Falcon was barely able to contain his excitement as the prime opportunity to 'show them his moves' had arrived once again. Per the showboating that'd come to be expected from the F-Zero playboy, Falcon postured a provocative stance, shot out his left arm with palm extended, and urged Mario into his doom with a look promising quick, unwavering humiliation.

"COME AWWWN!" Falcon cried, completely unafraid of the fidgety, slightly-overweight plumber. Mario rolled his eyes at the rude jest, and charged forward with a hardy intent to win.

Despite a valiant attempt to gain the upper hand, Mario's combat capabilities were greatly outmatched by the proficient bounty hunter. His fireballs – the only option he had at a safe approach to attack – were avoided easily by Falcon's disciplined dodging skills. Any effort to close distance in an attempt to dish out some real damage was instantly punished by Falcon's glorious combo arsenal, which chained 6 – often, 7 – moves together at once.

Fighting relentlessly against Mario left Falcon with a shred of guilt in his stomach, but he knew that going easier on his opponent would be an insult to Mario's personal character. For Falcon, entering battle came with a promise to always give 150% of himself in a fight, and grant his opponent a dramatic, inspiring duel concluding in a glorious death – a death that might even require Falcon to sacrifice himself in the process. To compromise this sacred covenant for the sake of winning or compassion was to compromise one's own integrity, not to mention the dignity of his opponent.

Falcon counted himself fortunate to be among the most exceptional combatants to ever hit the Smash Roster, and he was thankful that he never had to choose between winning the match and going against his code of honor. Nevertheless, there was, and forever would be, only one way to fight for Captain Falcon: _For Glory_!

Falcon's thoughts distracted his assault momentarily, allowing Mario the chance to break out of his flawless combos. The F-Zero pilot cursed himself for becoming distracted and took a quick glance at the scoreboard.

He still had all 3 of his starting stock, but Mario was down to his last life. Falcon smirked with anticipation – he could feel that his triumph was near. Mario's face was caked with sweat and didn't dare break focus, lest his assailant K.O. him with his _signature finish_.

"CAPTAIN FALCON! CAPTAIN FALCON!" The crowd screamed with tumultuous fervor, prematurely announcing their chosen victor. Falcon couldn't help but break his focus from the battle momentarily – while sportsmanship and goodwill would forever be the core values in _Smash!_ that Falcon held dear, he longed to embody the entertainment value of the sport, too. "Show me your moves!" He shouted with a warm salute to his fans.

Mario, although not prone to fighting dirty, saw what he could regard as his only opportunity for any sort of comeback. He dashed down Falcon, whom he believed to be completely distracted from the battle, but the bounty hunter would have anyone believe he had eyes in the back of his helmet, as he promptly broke his salute in time to counter Mario's desperate jab with his own grip.

Falcon slammed Mario into the ground with an apologetic smile, bouncing him off the floor of the boxing ring and into the air for a follow up air-pummeling. _Neutral, Neutral, Up-Air, Up-Air._ The captain's moves cycled fluidly through his mind as his legs struck incessantly with martial flair. He touched down rapidly at the edge of the stage, preparing his signature air finisher – the infamous 'Knee of Justice' – but he gave pause, and, with a conniving smirk, backed off as Mario struggled to regain air control.

The crowd's cheering lightened ever-so-slightly as many onlookers grew confused by Falcon's hesitance. Falcon, of course, was not surprised, and despite his persistent opinion that a good thing shouldn't be messed with, he was feeling a tad more…creative…than usual.

' _Time for something new. Something…unexpected,'_ he whispered internally. Ambition burned brightly in his brazen brown eyes.

When the moment was right, Falcon jumped up to meet his opponent, now floating back towards the stage in a controlled descent. The look on Mario's face subtly announced his resignation in this fight, but his eyebrows curved in confusion as Falcon approached him in midair – he didn't recognize _this_ finisher.

The captain's smirk grew even snider – though not so much as to compromise his otherwise-gentlemanly temper. He shot his arm out, pulling his hand into a clenched fist and positioning it in a winding position, and Mario knew then that he was in serious trouble.

Captain Falcon felt the raw, burning energies course deep from within him – the origin of his special power remained a mystery even to him then, and he doubted that he would ever discover its source; all that mattered in that instant was that he knew how to use it.

"FALCOOON…" he started, his voice announcing imminent doom in a half-growling, half-boasting tone.

Mario panicked, but his wits returned to him as he quickly flicked his yellow cape out, causing the F-Zero pilot to perform a 180° spin in place. The crowd gasped in shock, as their hero was now facing the entirely wrong direction to land his finishing blow! But the captain knew better, and what Mario had misfortunately failed to notice before flicking his cape out in instinct was that Falcon was _already_ turning of his own accord. Captain Falcon completed his turn, doubling the power of his killing blow, and Mario had graciously given him all the extra momentum he needed to ensure the hit landed without fault.

Falcon looked into Mario's pale expression, watching as the plumber internally face-palmed at the horrifying mistake that would induce his demise.

"… _PUUUNCH!"_

The energy built up in Captain Falcon's fist surged forward uncontrollably, striking Mario with enough force to send him into another dimension. Fortunately, however, the stage's barriers caught Mario first.

"GAME!" shouted Master Hand, his voice charged with the slightest quiver. The crowd roared with impalpable enthusiasm as the match drew to a conclusion, and all Falcon could do to contain himself was put on his trademark smirk for the cameras as they began charging towards him, eager to frame his triumph.

"Captain Falcon, is it true that your right knee has radioactive properties that make it so powerful?!"

"Captain Falcon, do you have to announce your signature attack in order for it to work?!"

"I have a source claiming that you're the child of Zeus himself. Captain Falcon, do you have any comment on that?!"

Numerous questions swarmed at Falcon from all directions, accompanying the flashing cameras that pulsed vigorously among the enormous mob of journalists, photographers, and enthusiastic fans in front of him.

Falcon had grown used to a tremendous publicity following over the course of his _Smash!_ career. He simply smiled and waved at the crowd, opting to remain the 'Silent-and-Brooding-yet-Flashy Enigma' in the eyes of the public. He hadn't responded to any of the media's preposterous inquisitions for years, and he wasn't about to encourage it now.

Eventually, the bodies surrounding him began to disperse, apparently realizing that his most recent success (like the many before it) would not open him up to answering any of their absurd questions.

Falcon left the stage and began his stride towards the stadium's exit. He had only just stepped out of the boxing ring when he saw Mario push through the crowd to his right. He jerked his head attentively to get a better look at his disheveled opponent, anticipating trouble, but the weary plumber's eyes reflected awe and congratulations, not vengeance.

Falcon cracked a smile at Mario (now only a few feet away from him) and touched the first two digits of his right hand to his heart, then pointed in the general direction of Mario's own.

"Well played!" He shouted with a friendly wink. With a sullen face, Mario grabbed the tip of his red "M" hat and gave it a curt tug, nodding appreciatively at the racer.

The exhausted Italian plumber then turned and set off silently in the direction of his two biggest fans – his fraternal twin brother Luigi, and the lovely Princess Peach – who had made their way down to the floor. Peach pulled Mario in for a consoling hug while Luigi answered Falcon's wide smile with a casual wave.

Sparked with curiosity, Captain Falcon turned his gaze to the stadium's stands, searching for other fellow _Smash!-_ ers that may have been spectating the fight. His eyes sifted frantically through the hulking mobs of people as they slowly moved toward the stadium's exit and spotted Link and Marth, apparently locked in an argument over something. Falcon had no luck in isolating the faces of anyone else he knew, but his search was halted abruptly when he felt the small hand of an adolescent pat at his upper thigh, seemingly in an effort to get his attention. Looking down, he spotted the exhilarated faces of two of his _own_ fans – Ness and Lucas. The psychokinetic teens beamed ecstatically at their hero.

"Mr. Falcon, that was _astounding_ , I've never—"

"And the way you hit him at the end with that—"

"—Falcon PUNCH!"

The two elated boys frolicked about enthusiastically in front of the amused champion, re-enacting the final moments of his climactic duel. Falcon chuckled at the display. Eventually the two energetic boys calmed down, at which point Ness stepped forward.

"Man…That has got to be – hands down – the most _amazing_ read I have ever seen in my life! If Mario himself hadn't done a thing, you would have missed! How on Earth did you know he was going to try and parry with his cape?" Ness asked incredulously, trying to impress Captain Falcon with his knowledge of competitive _Smash!_ terminology. Rubbing the back of his neck, Falcon answered the red-capped boy's question with a resigned shrug, as if to mutter, ' _what can I say?'_ His response only left the two in greater awe of the combat paragon.

Leaving the boys to their own devices, Falcon clicked his wrist-controller, signaling the Blue Falcon for pickup. Then, with business concluded, Falcon called stepped outside of the stadium, seated himself securely inside his ride's cockpit, and sped off in the direction of the Smash Mansion, his long day finally drawing to a close.


	2. Chapter 2

**[Author's Note:]**

 **For those of you that have reviewed this work so far, as well as anyone that may have just been interested enough to give it a read, thank you! As I develop the story, do not hesitate to give feedback or make suggestions on how I present my ideas.**

 **Keep in mind that this chapter will be a bit of a step back from the previous one, but I would liken it to the "calm before the storm," so do stay tuned…**

 **[Disclaimer:]**

 **I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights to Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.**

 **2**

The main door leading into the Smash Mansion creaked open slowly, revealing a pristine main hall that joined the other first-floor rooms together. It was exceptionally spacious in shape and size, resembling the lobby of a modern hotel.

Directly in the center of the hall sat a small, shallow fountain carved in the shape of the trademark _Smash!_ logo. Above it, a single, conservative diamond chandelier dangled majestically from the elegant, domed ceiling.

Across the pond stood a single, arcing staircase, which granted access to the second floor of the mansion. The staircase practically folded into the back wall, and consisted of a pale-colored railing and ivory-tile steps that matched the floor and crème-colored walls of the room. Several plants of varying size and vivacity adorned the area, some of which were perched on small, decorative tables that were tucked in the room's corners.

Aside from the monumental entryway, the main hall did not have any doors. Instead, it featured broad, elegant archways that gave the entire first floor a modernized sense of openness. Falcon stepped inside and wiped his feet on the floor mat (also a _Smash!_ logo), determined to keep the stark, reflective tiles looking as clean as they always did.

He glanced across the main hall, searching for signs of activity, but the distinct lack of commotion suggested that everyone was either still in the process of returning after a day at the tournament, or that they had all gone to bed already. Falcon looked at his wrist console's built-in watch. _8:30._ The night was still young…

The perplexing nature of everyone's absence temporarily distracted Falcon from his eagerness to shower and change out of his sweat-soaked racing suit. His focus returned, and he made his way around the central pool and up the stairs to the 2nd floor. Movement was somewhat of a struggle for him, partly due to fatigue from a day of rigorous activities, but mostly because his damp uniform had clawed its way tighter around his pronounced physique. Although he appreciated the form-fitting comfort the indigo-blue outfit usually afforded, after a day of strenuous physical activity, it clung too tightly to him for his liking. Pulling the suit off would be an ordeal for Falcon in its own right, but the hot shower promised afterwards would be an ample reward for the day's toils.

Falcon reached the top of the stairs and headed left – towards _Residence Quarters A-M_. The staircase ended facing a large, black pillar of marble (presumably used in supporting it) but it broke quickly on either side into a cozy, carpeted corridor.

The corridor boasted glass barriers on either side, which transformed the otherwise-unremarkable hallways into balconies that overlooked the primary commons on the first floor. These commons were considerably large – the main lounge alone was sizable enough to entertain up to 14 individuals at a time, and the dining area was only slightly smaller than that.

A bar occupied the space immediately beneath the 2nd-floor walkway, facing outwards towards a lounging area that had been artistically sunken into the ground by a few shallow stair-steps. Small tables and lounge chairs embellished the floor below, encircling an angular fire pit. Against the right wall, a massive, mounted television overlooked a sofa, loveseat and recliner. The lounge came equipped with virtually anything designed for relaxation and social gatherings imaginable. The back wall of the commons was made entirely out of glass panels – some which doubled as sliding doors – allowing occupants to look out over the beautiful courtyard and pool area of the mansion.

As he glanced out across the virgin beauty of his community home, Falcon was surprised to, yet again, find not a single occupant in the area aside from himself. With as many individuals taking up residence in the Smash Mansion as there were, surely at least one or two of them could be found in the commons at all times.

Falcon raised an eyebrow as he continued down the corridor. The glass barriers eventually morphed into regular walls, and doors began lining either side of the hall, each with a nameplate, wall-mounted mailbox, and cardkey lock. He hadn't been walking for very long before he reached his own door – the Master Hand has decided to consider "Captain" his first name, placing him quite close to the end of the corridor.

Falcon pulled his identification card from his back pocket and wearily slid it into the cardkey lock. The door abruptly buzzed and flashed a red LED in his face, demonstrating its refusal to bid him enter.

" _Hell,"_ he grumbled under his breath. If he had a nickel for every time the Master Hand had broken his promise that something would be fixed ' _immediately_ ,' Falcon would have enough money to _own_ the _Smash!_ Mansion. _Twice over._

He pulled the key out of the lock and shoved it in again, as carefully as an exhausted brawler that was running on loaned patience was capable.

Again, the red LED pulsed tauntingly. That did it.

Falcon's lips folded back to bare his teeth, now gritting against each other in blistering annoyance. He glanced to his sides to ensure that nobody was around to witness what he was about to do, then his lips pursed themselves back into a smirk.

Having determined that the coast was clear, the captain forcefully flung his left foot straight up into the air, his heel lined up perfectly with the card key lock, and abruptly brought his leg crashing down with whatever remaining strength he could muster. " _Falcon Kick!"_ he shouted as softly as he could, picturing a horrified look on Master Hand's face all the while.

The lock broke instantly under the pressure of the bounty hunter's foot, clattering to the floor in an anticlimactic thud. Triumphant, Falcon nonchalantly swept the obliterated mass of metal at his feet to the side, and pushed his door open.

In similar fashion to a hotel room, Falcon's small apartment resembled every other room in the mansion in terms of size and layout. The color of the walls was identical to that of the main hall, and the floor was fluffy, crème-colored carpet. A king-size bed with airy, white sheets filled the right side of the room, boasting a conservative, steel-painted wooden nightstand on each side of it. The left-side nightstand entertained a digital alarm clock and an auburn table lamp. A small counter and 3 chairs (all painted to match the nightstands) occupied the far-left corner of the room, and a silver desk adorned with writing materials and a few books adjoined the bed on the left wall.

As was customary with all the residencies in the _Smash!_ Mansion, the room lacked a personal bathroom, featuring a closet in its place. This design choice always confused Falcon, and his mind jumped at the opportunity to imagine what it would be like if Master Hand ever addressed it during orientation;

"… _And remember, Smashers, that remedying your bodily functions is_ always _secondary to how extravagantly you dress,"_ he thought to himself, using an extremely overdramatized version of Master Hand's announcer voice. The captain chuckled, amused by his own joke.

The individuality of Falcon's room manifested itself in the series of posters and awards he had scattered along the walls, many of them related to or referencing his achievements in his F-Zero racing career. The walls also harbored several framed photographs of Falcon with various associates and colleagues – Jody Summer, Rick Wheeler, and even Black Shadow, with whom he became great friends following the conclusion of their television series. He scrolled through the photographs, once again reminiscing about good times gone by, but his smile faltered when he came to a picture of him standing next to his best friend, Snake.

Captain Falcon was beaming at the camera with his trademark salute, his other hand resting casually at his hip. Snake stood on his left and had his arm around the captain's back, his left hand indicating a "thumbs up." It seemed like that was the only picture anyone had of Snake where he was actually smiling.

The bounty hunter shook his head, pulling himself back into the present, and dropped his personal items on the desk and crossed to the closet on the right side of the room. His wardrobe was not nearly as diverse as many of the others (he once heard a rumor that Peach had commandeered Mario's closet to hold the other half of her wardrobe because she had run out of room in her own) but, contrary to popular belief, he _did_ own clothing besides his racing uniform. With his sore, aching body in mind, Falcon pulled a light, black V-neck and his most comfortable pair of sweat pants out of the closet, and returned into the hall.

A single bathroom inhabited the end of each residence corridor, forcing the individuals dependent on it to share and respect each other's schedules. Falcon knocked lightly on the door, announcing his intention to enter; when no form of response answered his address, he stepped inside.

The bathrooms in _Smash!_ Mansion, though scarce, were nothing if not lavish. Each was much more spacious than an individual fighter's room and came replete with all manners of soap, mouthwash, and any other cleaning product one could imagine. The room itself resembled an indoor pool area, but it came equipped with several stalled toilets and sinks. A huge mirror hung along the right wall above a silver triple-vanity; it was so massive that even someone as large as Bowser could see his entire body (provided he was standing far enough away from it).

The main attraction, naturally, was the huge, elliptical bathtub/shower in the center of the room. It was larger than most of the spas that Falcon had seen, and a 6-headed shower spire rose from the center of the spacious basin, as if it were _designed_ for group bathing. The tub was built into the ground and could be accessed from a narrow staircase that faced towards the bathroom door. Its unique design permitted it to easily switch between bathing and showering, based on the needs and preferences of the individual.

Falcon grabbed a towel from the wall-mounted repository to the left of the door, set his change of clothes down next to the tub, and began the slow, painful process of scraping himself out of his suit. Most of the sweat responsible for fusing his skin and outfit together had gone by now, but his racing uniform was designed _not_ to come off, which meant that removing it even while _dry_ was a gigantic pain-in-the-ass.

Falcon pulled his boots and gloves off first – they were generally the easiest part. Then, he stretched and pulled the suit around his thighs first. Grunts and growls and handful of curses erupted from his clenched jaw as the suit begrudgingly tore away from his legs.

With his pants off, Falcon moved on to his top. The upper portion of his uniform was much easier to slide off, since it locked across his chest via button clamps. He undid the clamps on the right side of his abdomen and folded the top open, easing it from his bare chest. After that, it slid off quite easily.

Falcon stacked his racing suit in a neat pile next to his change of clothes and swept a glance at the mirror across the room. Like most people, he hated the sight of his own naked self. His physique would be considered stunning and flawless by anyone else (particularly those of the opposite sex) apart from numerous scars of varying size and shape that dotted his chest, arms, and back.

The only piece of equipment Falcon had yet to remove was his helmet. He gazed into the white diamonds that marked his eyes beneath the helmet's visor and forced a smile. Reluctantly, he unsheathed it from his head and tousled his damp, brown helmet hair. The helmet found its place next to his racing uniform and Falcon took one last look at his now-exposed face before stepping into the pool.

He touched the scar above his left eye and sighed. This one was different – fresher, and in spite of many layers of skin that had grown over it, it would remain an open wound. Falcon forced his thoughts away from the memories that his mind resentfully longed for, pulling his gaze from the mirror.

He stepped into the empty basin in the center of the room and turned the water on. The showers above his head began spewing immediately, and though the water was cold at first, it soothed his swollen joints, dissolving their pain. The light shower grew warmer over time, massaging and caressing him more intimately than the brittle cold had.

The captain shut his eyes and breathed heavily, allowing his emotional and physical tension to melt away with the stream. He pressed his barren forehead against the shower spire, leaning into comfort for what felt like seconds, but before he knew it, more than an hour had passed. He grudgingly dried himself off and slid into his V-neck and sweatpants.

The quarantined silence from earlier had been transformed by indistinct banter emanating from a few rooms as Captain Falcon passed through the hall for the second time that evening. He couldn't make much sense of anything he heard on the way back to his room, but he thought he caught the sound of Bowser setting up a web chat with Rosalina, who resided across the Mansion in _Residence Hall N-S._

"I don't know why you can't just talk to her in person. You're in the same building, for fuck's sake!" the obnoxious sound of Bowser Jr.'s voice blurted out, announcing his presence in his father's room. The snide comment was promptly followed by a loud slap.

"Ow!"

"Watch your mouth, Junior. Now tell me how to hide my video on this stupid thing so she won't see me when we chat!" a deeper, gruff voice replied.

Falcon snorted. ' _I'm never having kids.'_

He reached the end of the hall and slid his helmet back on before dumping the rest of his racing suit into the public wash repository – a mail-like receptacle system for each residence hall that routed dirty clothing directly into a public wash. Falcon was about to retire to his room for the night when a conversation emanating from the commons caught his attention. He moved to the edge of the 2nd-floor hallway, where it molded into the open balcony, and perked up his ears.

"…And-a suffice it to say, He-a kicked-a my ass!"

It was Mario. Laughter erupted from a small group, but there was too much noise for Falcon to discern precisely who else was involved in the discussion. When the commotion had quelled, a gruff, yet smooth, voice spoke out.

"The captain certainly is in a class of his own on the battlefield. He's fought all of us at least once, right?" Ike asked.

Falcon poked his helmeted head from around the corner to get a look at the group. They were all seated around the fire pit, now alight to the dim room. The courtyard on the other side of the glass paneling behind them was now cloaked in darkness, and the digital clock above the T.V. on the right wall read _9:57_.

Falcon slunk silently across the balcony and down the spiral staircase into the main hall, where he lingered in the shadows beneath the archway that lead into the commons. He could see the group much more clearly now.

Ike slouched back in his chair, facing away from the arch. Peach was seated to his right, prim and proper as usual, and the person on Ike's left had a strangely-shaped green cap on – it must have been Link. Mario, Ganondorf, and Samus sat on the other side of the fire pit, their faces clearly illuminated. The uniquely-shaped shroud of Lucario hung from the ceiling, barely noticeable except for his glowing eyes. Lucario's gaze shot directly at Falcon when he came into view, but he didn't interrupt the group's conversation – yet.

"One time, I was spacing him out with my projectiles—" Link had started. The group collectively sighed, a gesture to which he took offense.

"That's just how I fight, alright?" He turned to Mario accusingly. "I don't get pissy at you for spamming fireballs!"

Mario perked up. His eyelids looked heavy with his chin resting on his palm.

"That's-a different. My-a fireball is-a used for approaching!" he retorted.

"Hmph…approaching your mother…" Link trailed off.

"You are _such_ a child." Ganondorf growled indifferently, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Oh yeah, tough guy? What does that say about _you_ in all the games I've beaten you?" Link jabbed. "Hell, you weren't even in our latest release. Nintendo must have gotten a lot of complaints about how _easy_ you were."

Ganondorf's hand sizzled with dark magic, but all that emerged from it was a middle finger. Link snickered like an 8-year old that had just heard a bad word.

"Anyway…" Ike interjected, attempting to pull the group back on track. "I was going to say before, the cap' is phenomenal in battle, but…" he looked around the room to see if anyone might be eavesdropping on the conversation, little did he suspect that the subject of his comment was tucked just 10 feet away behind an arch.

"Have any of you talked to him? Like, _really_ talked, since…y'know?"

Every head in the group shook or shrugged (or both) except for Lucario's, which remained steadfastly aimed at the interloper. Falcon's smirk evolved into a grimace at the turn the conversation had taken. He watched as Ganondorf chipped away at invisible dirt on his fingernails. The Gerudo Prince clenched a fist.

"We all suffered, some more than others." He grumbled breathily.

Peach chimed in, completely oblivious to how much louder her voice was over everyone else's.

"But _he_ didn't. Not really. It took most of us months to accept it, to move on from it, but it's not that he's still…when you lose a friend like that…"

Falcon's stomach knotted itself over and over, until there wasn't room for another knot; then it knotted its knots. He stepped out from the arch, now almost in full view of the group. Peach hadn't stopped talking.

"What I'm trying to say is that, he just seems so happy around everyone now, isn't that a sign of something? Snake—"

Falcon stepped forward expectantly, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants. Mario was the first to notice him. He gritted his teeth, and his hand rose to Peach. She stopped and turned towards the arch, the last of the group to notice the tall, brooding bounty hunter just standing there, listening to them.

The entire room was still, as if for a photo. Then Lucario released his grip on the ceiling and landed almost silently next to the fire pit, his eyes piercing Falcon more deeply than the rest…searching for something…

Peach broke the silence. The gift of speech in an awkward situation such as this was pretty rare, but she had it. "Falcon, honey…I didn't—we didn't, er…" she said as sweetly as possible. The small beads of sweat on her forehead betrayed her seemingly-calm demeanor.

Samus stood up, the flames capturing her form-fitting blue pajamas and a look that bordered both indignance and indifference. "I…er…have a suit to polish," she said curtly, striding out of the room. Everyone frowned at her bullshit excuse, but they began to slowly file out of the room anyway. Mario touched Peach's hand, urging her to follow him upstairs, but she flinched, mouthing _'Wait,'_ to her boyfriend. He pursed his lips and proceeded up the stairs alone. Peach's gaze returned to Falcon's face, which was still blank. Falcon finally regained his bearings and put on his smirk. His 'poker face,' now months in development, could shatter the confidence of a god.

"Captain Falcon just came downstairs to get some water for his room!" he announced positively. Peach simply smiled and put her left hand up to his cheek, rubbing it in the way a mother would.

"Of course you did, dear," she replied softly.

Peach left the commons through the archway and followed the rest of the group up the stairs, leaving Lucario and Captain Falcon alone on the first floor. Lucario stepped up to Falcon, still searching his eyes. He then lifted his right paw up to Falcon's chest. It glowed in the presence of the captain's _aura_. Falcon instinctively pulled his hand up and into a defensive position.

"What are you—?!" his question was simultaneously interrupted and answered by Lucario's other hand, which pushed his arm back reassuringly. The Pokémon's right paw pressed firmly against the pilot's chest, pulsing with energy. Lucario closed his eyes.

"Hmmm…" He growled deeply.

After a minute, the Pokémon redacted his palm.

"Something is wrong with your aura." He mumbled. Falcon stared at him, confused. Before he could say anything in reply, Lucario turned away.

"Find me…" he said over his shoulder. "…when you are ready."

And with that, the Pokémon leapt up the side of the wall to the 2nd floor balcony and swiftly out of sight, utterly disregarding the staircase. Falcon's stomach had only just begun to untie itself when the fire pit fizzled out, leaving him alone in complete blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

**[Author's Note:]**

 **Sorry for the long break between updates. I was struggling to overcome writer's block (thou art a cruel and heartless bitch) and take care of several other life-related things. Hopefully this chapter turns out to be worth the wait. ;)**

 **[Disclaimer:]**

 **I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights to Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.**

 **3**

The Blue Falcon roared across an endless plain of blue waves, hovering just above the surface of the water as it approached the speed of sound:

"...500…600…700 miles per hour!" Captain Falcon shouted gleefully over the deafening rumble of his ride's engine. "She isn't even breaking a sweat—"

The words had barely crossed Falcon's lips when his vehicle was promptly rocked by the force of a sonic boom, indicating that he had breached the Blue Falcon's own sound wave.

 _Mach 1._

Truthfully, 761 miles per hour was no longer a special feat for Falcon or his machine – he had gone well beyond that speed many times – but that didn't make it any less enjoyable.

"Captain Falcon loves his job!"

Narrating his own life in 3rd person was something he had always done, and would continue to do. Though many people that knew him found it a little strange (and perhaps even slightly annoying), it was a part of who he was – what made him Captain Falcon – and they accepted that.

Before long, a small, black speck appeared on the horizon. The spot slowly began taking a more sizable, distinct shape as it broke apart the previous wholeness of the water. Falcon gazed at the ominous, drab island rapidly closing distance with his racer. The entire island was dimly-lit, devoid of any color or vibrancy, and perpetually shrouded in dark clouds that promised rain, but never followed through. This was his destination. Shadow Moses Island.

The Blue Falcon darted past the first outcroppings of the island, and shortly after that, a massive military base emerged into view at the center of the landmass. The aero racer squealed as its brakes wound the engine down to a safer speed, bringing it to a halt right at the main gates of the complex.

Captain Falcon leaped out of the cockpit and dismissed his ride, eager to see what the impending Smash! match had in store for him this time. His eyes scanned the area, taking in Shadow Moses Island's arena. He hadn't fought here nearly as often as many of the other stages on the roster, but it hadn't taken him long to familiarize himself with its quirks and features.

The captain searched the stage for other competitors – his opponents – but was surprised (and a little disappointed) to see that he was the first to arrive. He shrugged, and turned his attention to the fans in front of him. The audience cheered from the massive seating area adjacent to the stage, apparently just as excited for the upcoming battle as their hero. Falcon waved, with one hand on his hip, and smirked at the crowd, which roared excitedly in a frenzied fervor.

"These people really need this, don't they?" The captain muttered, pondering what exactly to do with himself. He hadn't anticipating arriving at the stage so early before the match began. Hell, he didn't know people even showed up to these things this soon prior to it starting. How long had they been sitting there? The stadium was practically full.

Just when he thought the crowd couldn't get any rowdier, a rumbling began to consume the island, emanating from high above the clouds. Falcon watched as over half of the audience gazed upward. He did the same, anxious to identify the source of the disturbance.

A large, orange gunship dropped through the swirling, gloomy mist above the island, aimed directly at the stage. At first, Falcon was afraid that it would hit, but it quickly altered its trajectory, pulling out of its rapid descent and into a smooth glide overhead. As it passed over the center of the stage, something deployed from beneath it, spinning like a ball as it plummeted towards the ground.

At the last minute, the round object re-formed into the shapely figure of a woman, clad in bright orange-and-yellow armor. Her true form revealed, Captain Falcon immediately identified the figure as the infamous bounty huntress, Samus Aran. She slammed forcefully into the stage, creating a modest crater on impact. The crowd had quieted only slightly out of confusion as she entered the stage, but returned to its uproarious cheering when she emerged from the dust, standing tall and brazen.

Captain Falcon, ever the enthusiast of dramatic entrances, joined the audience's applause and brought his hands into a lively clap, demonstrating his approval. Samus turned to him, her mysterious eyes glaring through her green visor. His smirk was unrelenting, and he knew it. The huntress abruptly broke away from Falcon's gaze (a battle she would only continue to lose) and took to an empty corner of the stage.

It initially seemed that the two bounty hunters would have to wait awhile for the next combatant to arrive. Samus had only just stepped into her corner, however, when another fighter darted into the arena, flitting rapidly through the shadows. Eventually, the shrouded creature stepped forward, casually revealing himself to be Lucario. The Pokémon's extremities radiated with the ethereal blue flames of his aura, posturing a mystical appearance. Falcon watched as the creature's eyes stoically scanned his surroundings. He saluted when the Pokémon's eyes finally crossed his own. Lucario nodded, silently toasting to an honorable, glorious fight.

When Lucario arrived in one of the two remaining corners, Master Hand's voice reverberated through the speakers on either side of the stage, announcing the imminence of the fight.

"Contestants, prepare yourselves! The brawl will initiate in 2 minutes!"

Falcon glanced around, perplexed by the lack of a 4th competitor. In the many years he had fought on the Smash! Roster, Public FFA's had always featured 4 combatants pitted against each other. The lights dimmed over the audience, pronouncing the stage's illumination like a theater. Then, at the last minute, a sharp crackling sound permeated throughout the now-silent stadium, originating center-stage.

A toned, muscular man, fizzling with smoke and electricity, stood up from a crouched stance, still flickering as his clumsy static cloak deactivated around him. A skintight exosuit encased the man protectively, and strapped satchels (no doubt brimming with explosive weaponry) adorned his coarse, lean physique.

The man himself looked youthful and energetic, but his body posture spoke of a veteran soldier who had seen just enough action to loathe his job. He cupped one of his hands around his slender jaw and stroked his full beard, contemplating the individuals before him; indeed, they would be formidable obstacles to his victory in the imminent match.

Captain Falcon relaxed from his combat stance, capturing the soldier's gaze as he turned. When it came to tournaments, the bounty hunter was all-professional, but in the lingering moments before the match, he couldn't help but grin at his best friend.

"Captain Falcon will censor all mercy as he liberally, and unwaveringly, kicks your ass!" the F-Zero pilot jeered, playfully as ever. His fingers melodramatically thrusted towards Solid Snake as he struck what he would have _publically defended_ as "a pose of brash awesomeness."

Snake glared at the showboating captain with the same intensity that Samus had, but unlike her, he simply chuckled at the gaudy sight of his colleague's professed taunt. Falcon's grin grew even wider. He prided himself on his ability to mind-screw every competitor in the Smash! Mansion, but the mercenary standing before him had somehow rendered himself impervious to his loud charm. And he respected that.

Snake allowed his laughter to quell of its own accord, and, with a final sigh, turned on his heel toward the direction of the final, unoccupied corner.

"Showtime, Doug!" the slimy spy casually remarked as he crossed out of earshot.

The brooding bounty hunter cringed at the sound of his first name, which thus far he had, quite effectively, kept confidential from everyone else. He prayed silently that no one had heard or comprehended what Snake had just said to him, and readied himself as Master Hand began his countdown:

"3…2…1…GOOO!"

Per usual, Captain Falcon was the first to strike. He darted across the gloomy stage as fast as his legs could carry him, appearing to the audience like a multi-colored bullet traversing a drab backdrop.

Samus was bold; she had started charging a shot from her arm cannon to punish the F-Zero pilot's cavalier charge, but he was too quick, and swept her violently into a down throw. The metal-clad huntress bounced off the surface of the stage, dazed by the rapid attack. Captain Falcon smirked triumphantly, and was about to ensnare her in one of his relentless air combos when an explosive warhead struck him in the back, sending him off of his feet and into the right wall of the stage. Falcon whispered a curse, his follow-up ruined, and he frantically scanned the stage in search of his assailant.

His eyes caught Snake, a wide smirk painted across his face. The soldier was in the process of removing a rocket launcher from his shoulder. Smoke flowed wistfully from the barrel, indicating it had recently been fired. Falcon gritted his teeth, but his vengeful gaze was rapidly replaced with his own smirk. Snake _loved_ screwing things up for the bounty hunter, both on and off the field. And even with his air combo tarnished, Falcon couldn't stay mad at the mercenary for doing what he did best.

But what Falcon _could_ do was punish him for it.

The captain dashed towards Snake, who attempted to hamper his combatant's approach by lobbing two grenades in the path between them. Falcon gracefully leaped and dodged away from the explosives, planting his voltaic knee in Snake's side. Snake fell backwards, trying to regain his balance before his vulnerability could be fully exploited by the captain, but to no avail. Falcon smirked at his opponent's helplessness and kneeled, locking his fist against the side of his body in a winding motion; it glowed radiantly with orange-red flames. Snake crunched his face, bracing himself for the inevitable, but his mouth couldn't help but curl into a paltry smile that basically said, "I'm fucked."

"FALCON—"

Suddenly, every corner of the stage rattled, and debris burst forth violently from the hangar comprising the rear of the stage. Captain Falcon's signature move had just been stopped short by a massive explosion that had obliterated the stadium's rear wall. All the contestants, he included, stumbled in shock as the ground beneath them quivered. Falcon gazed in amazement at Snake.

"H-How did you do that?" he asked incredulously, trying to decide between surprise, horror, and pure giddy amusement. Snake returned his glance, but his face wasn't boasting a smirk. Instead, his eyes postured horror and apprehension.

"I…didn't," he whispered. Falcon's smirk fell instantaneously.

The wreckage in front of them began clearing away, accompanied by the whirring sound of moving machinery. Falcon glanced at the other 2 combatants on the opposite end of the stage. Samus was postured atop Lucario's sprawled body, apparently about to launch a missile point-blank into his face. They both watched expectantly as the dust around the hole in the wall cleared.

An enormous battlemech stepped forward, emerging from the fresh crater in the back of the stage. It stood 43-feet tall and was armed to the teeth with anti-personnel weaponry, nuclear warheads, and anything else it might need to level all civilization. Most of the _Smash!_ Fighters knew it as a stage decoration, but to Snake it was something much more.

 _Metal Gear REX_.

Samus and Lucario relaxed from their antagonistic position on the floor, walking slowly towards the center of the arena to investigate the strange occurrence. Captain Falcon's eyes inquisitively darted to each fighter.

"Uh…is this supposed to happen?"

The others exchanged looks.

"I've seen it happen before." Lucario mumbled after realizing that no-one else was going to answer. "But only once. This…thing…doesn't do anything, really. It looks around, makes noise…Then it leaves." Metal Gear REX stood stationary and did precisely what the Pokémon described.

Falcon looked at Snake. His demeanor had completely changed. He looked more timid now, and nervous – a sharp contrast to the daring, frosty appearance that normally characterized him. It was an understandable reaction to seeing one's lifelong nemesis manifested in full capacity just a few meters away, whether or not it actually posed a threat.

The bounty hunter shrugged, which the other 2 fighters took as a sign that they should resume fighting. Captain Falcon did the same, turning to Snake, and was about to come between Snake's implacable glare and the massive robotic killing machine when the entirely unexpected happened.

Snake dodged backward frantically as an unknown force drove into Captain Falcon's side, sending him into the concrete pillar on the far edge of the stage. It cracked as he impacted with it, and subsequently collapsed to the floor with him. The trauma of slamming back-first into the wall had violently knocked the wind out of the staggering captain.

"Son of a…ngh…bitch…,"Falcon choked as he gasped failingly for oxygen. His eyes shot around the room, searching for the owner of the force that had thrown him with such great force. His jaw dropped in horror at the sight which greeted him.

The object responsible for Falcon's assault was one of Metal Gear REX's large, mechanical legs. It had apparently stricken him in the process of plowing rapidly through what remained of the hangar wall. The towering mechanical behemoth had moved forward since Falcon had last glimpsed it, now standing fully exposed before the stage.

"Snake…Sam…us…Lucario…" The captain wheezed as loud as he could, trying desperately to warn his colleagues. Unfortunately, speech isn't possible without air to drive it, and all that came of Falcon's attempts to speak were silent shapes from his mouth. He fought the urge to lose consciousness, finally managing to re-inflate his chest cavity, and took to his feet.

Snake was camped on the other side of the stage, currently in the process of unloading his entire personal armory of explosives on the technological monstrosity in front of him. He launched missile-after-missile into the Metal Gear's thick armor, but the walking tank barely even flinched. Samus was in a similar position, dodging the war machine's supposed attempts to crush her underfoot, and Lucario had taken to slinking around the monstrosity's torso, searching for potential weaknesses and imperfections in its defense.

"Captain Falcon thought you said it doesn't do anything!" The bounty hunter shouted toward Lucario, who clung tightly to Metal Gear's torso as the battlemech attempted to shake him off. The Pokémon's part-annoyed, part-bewildered expression answered him better than any reply would have. Obviously, he had never experienced a situation in _Smash!_ where the stage decorations try to kill the competitors mid-fight.

Metal Gear REX finally got wise, ignoring Lucario's paltry attacks as its torso unwound to reveal an arsenal of antipersonnel cannons. It turned its newly-unsheathed ordnance at the huntress (who had since been successful in avoiding its lethal stride) and opened fire.

Samus cried out as Metal Gear's large-caliber bullets tore straight through her powered armor, which quickly dematerialized around her as she fell to her knees. Several large wounds became clearly visible from the lack of her Varia suit, and now her only defense was the blue, skintight Zero suit she typically wore beneath it.

The mechanical behemoth scored another success as it drove itself into the concrete wall on the side of the stage, finally dislodging Lucario from its body. Snake had long run out of rocket-propelled grenades to shoot at it, and was now standing anxiously in the corner, unable to close in. Metal Gear REX turned back towards the crippled, exposed huntress, and moved in for the killing blow, but it froze at the sight of one final obstacle in its path.

It was Captain Falcon.

The bounty hunter stood there defiantly, staring down the menacing juggernaut adjacent to him. It looked angry to find him – what it would regard as such an insignificant thing – blocking its path.

"No," Falcon finally said vindictively.

Metal Gear hesitated. Then, it brought its foot crashing down on the F-Zero pilot to punish his arrogance. But Falcon was too quick. He leapt gracefully through the air, showing no evidence of the serious injury he had received a short time ago, and landed on Metal Gear's knee. The battlemech tried vainly to swipe him loose, but the captain only shot up its leg, across its torso, and onto its historically-sparse rear armor. Then, he primed his fists on the thin sheet metal and kicked off from it, leaving behind a fiery explosion.

"Yes!" He cried. Much to everyone's surprise (including his own) the towering robot stumbled, then came crashing forward. Samus used her remaining strength to lunge out of its path, and before long, Metal Gear lay motionless in the sizable rut it had left in the ground, seemingly "dead."

Lucario helped Samus to her feet while Snake walked over to Falcon, inspecting their fallen adversary.

"It won't be down for long." The soldier whispered. "The only way we're going to knock it out for good is if we can blow it up from the inside."

Lucario assisted Samus in limping over to them. She was clinging indignantly at her wounds as her face fought the urge to show pain. Lucario stared grimly at the pair as they formulated a plan.

"It's sentient." Snake continued. "It will prioritize weakened targets, but we can't beat this damn thing unless we work as a team."

"You 3 stay here and finish this, I'll see to myself," Samus winced. Captain Falcon shrugged at the others. He was never one to run from a fight. Snake nodded.

"I'll go with you. I won't be much help," Lucario grunted. He blinked slowly, glancing down at his right leg. Falcon was surprised to see that it was missing a toe. Blood oozed copiously from the wound that had since taken its place. Lucario wasn't the one supporting Samus – she was supporting _him_.

Lucario stepped forward, staggering on his weaker foot, and Samus caught him, albeit painfully, with her left arm. Then they strode methodically towards the outskirts of the stage, leaving Falcon and Snake to themselves. Metal Gear chirped and whirred as it slowly began to stand itself up.

"Okay, Captain, here's the plan…"

Only a few minutes later, Falcon was taunting the fully-restored war machine just inches away from its feet. Metal Gear swiped and stabbed its razor-sharp legs at the daredevil bounty hunter as he sidestepped _just_ far enough away from them to avoid being skewered.

"Captain Falcon—would like to leave—sometime today—Snake!"

The pilot roared between dive rolls at his partner in crime, who was now lurking in the shadows behind the oblivious behemoth. As if on cue, Snake finished strapping several packs of C4 into a single entity and held it high, signaling that his preparations were complete. Captain Falcon leapt up the wall and onto Metal Gear's back, tearing the jagged, thin metal off of it with his bare hands. From this position, he was now just a few feet away from Snake, and held out his free hand for the C4. He received the detonator instead, much to his discontent.

"Retreat a safe distance and detonate it when I tell you," The soldier urged, placing special emphasis on the last 4 words of his statement. Falcon shook his head.

"Captain Falcon will not—"

"If something happens and I can't clear the area in time, you will hit that button. I'm the only one who knows where Metal Gear REX's power core is located."

Falcon wouldn't budge, but before Snake could force him off with an apologetic kick to the face, Metal Gear sobered up from its confusion and rammed its side into the wall, sending shards of concrete and shrapnel into the air and thrusting the captain off of its back. Falcon's helmet flew off in the confusion, and a large chunk of metal nicked his eye, leaving a deep gash. The captain's heart dropped when he realized he was no longer holding the detonator to the explosives. He was helpless on the ground just meters away from Metal Gear now. The walking weapon had turned its attention to him once again, baring its cannons as it moved in for the kill. The Captain's eyes broke away from the nightmarish juggernaut when he noticed Snake standing atop of it, explosives in one hand and detonator in the other. Metal Gear's cannons jolted to life and everything went slow and silent. All Falcon could hear was the last words his greatest colleague would ever speak.

"Forgive me."

Snake disappeared into Metal Gear's back, and no sooner had its cannons locked onto the sprawled bounty hunter than flames and debris erupted violently from within it.

Falcon let out a visceral scream as the arms of Samus, Lucario, and a few others carried his agonized, flailing body out of the arena.


	4. Chapter 4

**[Author's Note:]**

" **Nothing for years and now** _ **2**_ **chapters in one day?! Kil, what are you even doing?"**

 **Yes, I know I have joined the dreadfully large crowd of people that start something and walk away. But writing something I'm satisfied with is hard, guys, as is life. On a whim, I opened this story up on my mobile the other day and felt inspired to write an update, but I wouldn't get my hopes up for a regular schedule.**

 **[Disclaimer:]**

 **I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights to Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.**

* * *

 **4**

Captain Falcon woke up with a start. He was lying in his bed, sweat-drenched clothes beneath sweat-drenched sheets, gasping for air. It felt like drowning – his lungs were free of fluid, but still, they refused to operate. The weary captain staggered lightheadedly out of his bed, his heart beating like a feral monster trying to escape his chest. Then he felt the rush in his stomach.

Barely conscious of his actions, Falcon threw open the door to his room and scampered down the hall as quickly and quietly as he could manage. He threw himself into the bathroom and flipped on the light switch, then he made for the toilet, reaching it just in time; the contents of his stomach promptly 'abandoned ship' as he keeled weakly over the porcelain basin. His heart was still thrashing and he closed his eyes, trying to wipe the memories from his mind. Then he heard the door to the bathroom open. _Shit_. In his haste, he must've forgotten to lock it, and he certainly couldn't do anything about it now.

"Oh, Goddamn!" It was Ike's voice, a little grislier than usual. He had probably just woken up, despite Falcon's best efforts to dash covertly across the residence hall.

The captain's face flushed red. He was embarrassed to be seen in such a compromising position, and all he could do was hold himself over the latrine until his body decided he had suffered enough. Ike's calloused hands snaked around the bounty hunter's head and shoulders in an attempt to brace him. After a short time, Falcon's innards calmed down, and he fell backwards onto the ground, out of Ike's arms. His eyes were still misty, but he caught a quick glance of the interloper before turning his face away. The tall, rugged swordsman was, for once, without his sword, and instead of the usual armor and cape, he wore a thin, gray tank-top and navy blue boxer shorts. The band of fabric he usually strung around his forehead was also absent. He stood sullenly in front of the floor ridden F-Zero pilot, holding out his arms in concern.

"C-Captain Falcon doesn't want your help. Leave him alone."

The bounty hunter thusly refused to meet Ike's cool blue gaze, but he watched the swordsman's feet stagger reluctantly out of the bathroom. The door closed, leaving the broken captain alone, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He didn't know if Ike was still listening in through the door, but he didn't care. His thoughts would not remain bounded from the dream any longer.

He wept, thusly.

* * *

Captain Falcon stared blankly into his palm. The commons were threaded with orange and gold streaks from the freshly-risen sun. It was early; 7 AM, to be precise, but many of the residents were already up and about. Falcon himself has been awake since 4:30, courtesy of his…episode…in the bathroom. Fully aware that there would be no chance of getting any more sleep, he decided to take a long, relaxing hot shower before the break of dawn. Across the room, Mario and Luigi were giving a lecture to some of the younger _Smash!-_ ers on how to improve their fighting stamina and technique. Every once in a while, Luigi would glance over at Falcon sulking at the bar and give him a look that said, ' _Why aren't you teaching this class, hotshot?'_

The captain only breathed a heavy sigh and took another swig of the liquid in his glass – mostly scotch, garnished with a little bit of orange juice. In hindsight, he was pretty sure he had gotten the mixture backwards, but that was something he could actually be thankful for.

Dazzling rays of sunlight illuminated the shiny objects around the room, creating a modest light show. For a long time, Falcon just sat patiently and listened to the Mario Brothers' speech, even if it was mostly stuff he already knew.

"You all have-a special talents. Use-a them to push your advantage—"

"—But-a don't become-a dependent on them!"

"Exactly, Luigi!" Mario pointed at his brother to affirm the weight of his interjection.

Falcon rolled his glass in his palm with chuckle, reminiscing about his first match against Luigi, several years ago. Luigi knocked away one of his stock with his fiery uppercut-punch and the bounty hunter flew tumbling off the stage, his (up until then) perfect game ruined. Falcon was furious, especially to be killed by Luigi's Falcon Punch-knockoff move. But such a powerful ability was not easy to connect, and so, the captain buried the hatchet. He was always more than prepared to positively acknowledge good form. Despite the praise he had given the timid Italian plumber, however, Luigi was still afraid to face Falcon again, and rightfully so, for vengeance _would_ be his.

At some point, Ike must have entered the room. He caught Falcon by surprise when he rounded the bar and grabbed himself a glass from the back wall, filling it with orange juice (and a dash of tequila). Unlike the bounty hunter, he was still clothed in the familiar pajamas Falcon had seen in the bathroom. The swordsman sluggishly wiped his eyes.

"How'd you sleep?"

What a shitty question. Ike had seen him not 3 hours ago, and from _that_ he should have had plenty of information on how the captain slept. Such a ridiculous inquiry was well-deserving of a ridiculous answer. But Captain Falcon just turned his head, ignoring Ike. The swordsman was persistent, and newfound seriousness pervaded his tone.

"Look, Cap…I'm sorry, I just want to make sure you're okay. I don't know how much you heard of the conversation me and some of the other fighters were having last night—"

"Captain Falcon heard it all," the pilot replied frankly before drinking down, and Ike tried to hide the cringe on his face. Falcon's expression was plain and emotionless. He just wanted to see how the swordsman would react.

"We're just concerned, that's all. Y'know…about what happened a few months ago. It took its toll on all of us, and with you being so close to him—"

"Solid Snake perished in combat. He lived well, fought well, and took his glory with him to his grave."

The bounty hunter tactfully hid the tremble in his voice. The concept of _feelings_ had always been somewhat elusive to him. Concordantly, he had never felt so strongly connected to a person as with Snake, nor so mortally wounded when he died. Like a child, part of Falcon couldn't comprehend why his mind and memories haunted him. And yet, part of him understood it all beyond what mere words could express.

"We want to make sure you aren't _hurting_ , and in the bathroom this morning you…you didn't look good," Ike stuttered out, his voice slinking over metaphorical eggshells.

Then Falcon had a thought. Maybe Ike knew and could explain what was wrong with him – show the part of him that didn't understand (or, at least, chose not to feel) serenity. Ike was no stranger – well, he was no _close_ friend either, really – but levelling with anyone might help. The captain withdrew his gaze, recalling the night before, and how very outspoken Ike had been in the group.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Ike stared at him, idly awaiting a response. Falcon's lips curled into a flat grin and he shook his head. The swordsman tried to crack a smile, but it came out looking weird. He raised his glass to the bounty hunter and nodded his head.

"Well, if you need anything…you know where I'll be."

And with that, Ike strode out of the room. The captain downed the remains of his glass in one gulp, shook at the burn of alcohol in his dry throat, and made his way out of the commons, checking his phone for the daily itinerary. Nothing for him, apart from a 1-on-1 match scheduled to take place at 11 AM. The stage listed was the _Ωmega_ version of Norfair, but Master Hand must not have updated the roster recently, because Falcon's opponent was still written in as _TBD_. Not that it mattered; it was still too early to think about anything.

Anything except for that damned dream, of course.

* * *

The halls were rather drab compared to everywhere else in the _Smash!_ Mansion. Captain Falcon's mind remained ceaselessly plagued by the nightmare that had poisoned his sleep last night. Patrolling the corridors was a welcome avocation of his, and the other residents didn't seem to mind as he passed them by, soul-searching. With no desire to break his stride, he kept moving, hands in his pockets, replaying the sharpest moments of his nightmare…the emergence of Metal Gear, the sacrifice his closest colleague had made, which was somehow selfish _and_ selfless at the same time…He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think. And he hoped that, by some miracle, shuffling aimlessly about the corridors of the enormous mansion would bring him that much closer to tranquility.

Instead, he found himself in the presence of Samus Aran.

The tall, shapely blonde was apparently in the process of stumbling sleepily from her room. It was only then that Captain Falcon realized he had accidentally wandered into _Residence Hall N-S._ How long had it been since he had left the commons to brood about the mansion? He must have circled the entire property at least twice.

Samus vacantly rubbed her eyes. Dark crescents hovered distantly above her defined cheekbones. Her hair was a bit more disheveled than usual, and she was still garbed in the light pajamas Falcon had seen the night before. The mess of a woman standing before the racing captain was a sharp contrast compared to the clean, brooding sex goddess he had come to expect. She had undoubtedly just woken up.

The captain stepped cautiously backward – she herself was barely conscious enough to notice as she almost piled into him.

"Oo—ps…I'm sorry," she said absently.

After rubbing her eyes a second time, she squinted up at his puzzled expression. Captain Falcon's height only bested her by a few measly inches, but he made it count where possible. He could tell that she wasn't used to _physically_ 'talking up' to someone; her experience talking up to someone _metaphorically_ , on the other hand, was likely nonexistent.

"Oh…it's _you_ ," she said flatly. "Wait, this is Residence Hall N-S. You shouldn't be here."

"Captain Falcon is permitted access to all areas of the Mansion as part of his contract _,_ "Falcon stated.

He didn't care that he sounded like a massive tool. Not even when she gave him a look that implicitly confirmed it. Samus snorted, brushing her frayed bangs out of her face.

" _Wow._ You mean you actually read that?"

"Yes."

"All 96 pages of it?"

"Yes."

"Then what's on page 47?"

"Tournament Rules – subsection "Roster Requirements," he replied without hesitance.

She grinned snidely. "You're wrong. It's actually a short article of which game modes items are allowed in." He smirked back at her.

"Looks like Captain Falcon isn't the only one who read the whole thing."

That did it. Her eyes shut slowly and it looked as though she might fall backward onto the floor. Her left hand twitched, almost certainly eager to slap the wry smile right off of Falcon's face, but she ultimately restrained herself, opting on a dry chuckle instead.

Falcon crossed his arms, and it suddenly occurred to him that they had never been this close to each other before. In fact, this was the most they'd ever spoken. The huntress was still in the process of collecting herself from her exhausted trance when the captain found himself glossing over her curvy physique. Her legs were flawless of course, even if their perfection was obscured by her loose pajama bottoms. The light tank she wore clung perfectly to her toned abdomen and curved ruggedly over her bosom. For someone so strong and resilient in a fight, Samus was quite…womanly. In another instant, she had cleared her throat, promptly reasserting Falcon's attention.

"Have you seen Master Hand? Falcon is looking for him."

Samus shook her head, yawning. "I just woke up. What do you want to know, anyway?"

"Captain Falcon has a 1v1 match this morning," he exclaimed with renewed pride. "11 AM sharp! He was wondering who his challengermight be."

Samus's frown curled into a slight smile. "What time is it now?"

"…by Captain Falcon's watch, almost 10 o'clock."

"Well, I guess I'd better shower, then. Wouldn't want to keep 'him'waiting, would I?"

Samus curled her lips into a sly smirk as Falcon puzzled over her words.

"Why is that?" Falcon asked.

"Because, you idiot… _I'm_ your opponent," she replied teasingly.

Falcon's eyebrow shot up. He wasn't surprised to be facing Samus, per se, but she was among the potential candidates he hadn't considered. In any case, his facial expression must have brought her some degree of amusement, because she chuckled, sauntering around him and heading for the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"See you at 11, Cap. Ωmega Norfair, is it?" she called out.

Falcon turned about casually to face her, his trademark smirk now plastered across his face. He nodded.

"Don't be late."

Before Falcon could get another word in edge-wise, she exited into the bathroom and out of sight. As if on cue, the clock at the end of the corridor struck 10. The bounty hunter, now alone in the center of a residence hall foreign to him, uncrossed his arms and began his brief trek back into the heart of the mansion. On his way back to the commons, his thoughts turned to the impending fight. Something about it made him uneasy – anxious, even – to the point where he felt heinously ill-prepared for it. He had never prepared for a _Smash!_ duel in his life, but something about this one…be it the stage, the timing, or the puzzlingly awkward exchange with his opponent he had just experienced…motivated a shred of unease in him.

And he thought about Samus, who was always so _aloof_ about anything and everything. He had always seen her as unapproachable, like everyone else. Yet, judging by her tone, there was something about their conversation that sparked her interest…and his.

Captain Falcon's ass vibrated. His phone. It was a notification memo from the Master, reminding him that his match was set to commence in less than an hour. He dismissed it, and resolved to save his deeper thoughts for later consideration. His focus shifted to the imminent duel as he signaled the Blue Falcon to meet him right outside the main entrance to the couldn't afford any more distractions.

* * *

Before long, the F-Zero pilot was seated securely in his joyride, cruising through the depths of Zebes at breakneck speeds. It would have been much more convenient to just install teleporters for each registered stage on the _Smash!_ Roster, but the Master had, for reasons unexplained, decided against it. The cave-ish structures and surfaces of Norfair were ashen and grim, with veins of radiant crimson seeping out of the crevices in the walls. The scenery truly embodied all of mystery, beauty, and foreboding.

Falcon kept his racer hovering far above the bottom of the expansive caverns. An endless ocean of molten lava stretched across the surface, threatening those foolhardy enough to come near it. A sparse handful of columns stretched up of the glowing sea of flames, joining the ceiling to the ground at several locations with winding pillars of rock. Norfair was well-known for its instability; highly-variable magma outputs made it a prime target for geothermal power plants and isolated outposts.

The Blue Falcon darted across a shallow corridor of stone, which rapidly folded outwards into a massive, domed hub. Lava-falls flowed from artificial fissures in the walls, causing the calm magma ocean below to rise and fall unpredictably. At the center of the cavern, a single, multi-arrangement shielded platform hovered high in the air, decorated with a gladiatorial motif. The platform was surrounded by floating grandstands of similar design, which freely circled the arena, providing spectators full vision of battles. Falcon hit the brakes, and his machine glided gracefully to a standstill right above the platform. The crowd roared extravagantly like usual as he made his appearance.

Samus followed him closely, reaching the stage via her gunship shortly after. Her arrival was accented by the brisk sound of her orange armor striking hard against the platform. The force of her harsh landing shook the stage and Falcon lost his balance briefly. Despite his internal amusement, he frowned at her.

"Whoops…" she taunted through her glistening green visor. "I didn't mean to _startle_ you."

For a stoic bounty huntress who regularly preferred solitude, she was certainly a flirt. Falcon crossed his arms and smirked. His expression could put snobbish rich kids to shame.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? That armor looks pretty weighty. You might not be able to keep up!"

He expected her to be fuming. The Varia suit was an intimate extension of Samus, and he had just insulted it as if it were her complexion. Instead, she jerked her head to the side, contemplating…the rowdy excitement died down, as if the audience were personally giving her a moment to conjure up a response.

Finally, she turned her head back to her opponent. "You're right…"

In a single, fluid motion, the Varia suit's cracks and crevices lit up. The plated armor split apart at the seams, and in a curt puff of smoke, out stepped the suit's owner. Samus was now garbed only in her blue Zero suit, armed with her paralyzer handgun and a pair of jet boots. Falcon stood agape. He hadn't expected her to pull something like this. And to top it all off, he was facing an entirely different threat now. His whole strategy would have to change on the spot. Even the audience was caught by surprise. The voice of the Master Hand broke the calm.

"There has been a last minute roster modification," his announcer voice bellowed, unhindered. " _Captain Falcon_ will now be fighting against _Zero-Suit Samus_!"

The huntress lurched forward with a relaxed sigh, liberated from the weight of her suit.

"That's much better. Alright, hotshot; ready to rock?"

The energy from the crowd reached its apex. Between the tension of the matchup, the harshness of the environment, and, hell, the fact that Samus was fighting in a skintight blue jumpsuit…this was gonna be an incredible face-off. Master Hand held his speech just long enough for dramatic effect; Then…

"3…2…1…GOOOOOO!"


	5. Chapter 5

**[Disclaimer:]**

 **I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights to Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.**

* * *

 **5**

"How did she beat you?"

Lucario sat across from him, his legs crossed. It was one of the few times Falcon had seen the _Pokémon_ in a normal relaxing position; usually, he'd just hang from the ceiling like a bat. The walls of his room were darker than those of the other residencies – there was much less light in Lucario's abode – and they also boasted various artifacts and ancient keepings. The faint scent of burning incense permeated the bounty hunter's senses as he breathed, but the fragrance was not assaulting; if anything, it actually relaxed him.

The Pokémon stared patiently, awaiting a response to his inquiry. He was not known around the mansion for being emotive, but Falcon _had_ noticed that his voice was charged with the tiniest ounce of incredulity. It was certainly nothing compared to the shock of nearly everyone else spectating the fight when he lost. He hadn't fallen to another fighter in…hell, he couldn't even remember when. Finally, the bounty hunter broke his silence.

"Captain Falcon doesn't know."

He had chosen his response carefully, and while it wasn't very eye-opening, it was technically the truth. Perhaps the most frustrating part of the entire incident for Falcon wasn't that he had lost to Samus; she was a capable fighter, and one he hadn't had much experience in dueling, particularly without her armor. No, what bothered him was that the battle wasn't even _close._ She had straight-up beaten him. Plain and simple. In fact, her performance was nearly flawless, and certainly comparable to what the F-Zero pilot (and all of his fans) had come to expect from _him_.

" _Hmm…_ "

Lucario's eyes became slits, biting with the intensity of a clairvoyant. To liken him to a psychiatrist would be as absurd as comparing Ganondorf to a politician, yet Falcon had made the decision to come to him. The Pokémon was the closest thing that he could consider a true friend; anyone else was just a colleague or "co-worker" in some sense. The demons of his past did well to keep him alone and friendless. Lucario shut his eyes. The bluish glow of aura around him intensified. After a moment, he rediscovered his voice.

"The Aura is a mystical power that resides in all living things. It is an invisible current of energy that surges through each of us, bestowing knowledge, valiance, and strength of the body and mind."

The _Pokémon_ opened his eyes, revealing a bright glow that resembled a blue open flame. The room grew even darker with the introduction of a new, potent light source. Falcon glanced down at his torso to discover a blue stream – almost like a luminescent, floating river – coursing through him. The lightshow was quite a spectacle. Falcon's gaze explored the transformed room, and blue silhouettes darting back and forth among the walls began to take the form of people the bounty hunter knew. The shroud of a suit-less Samus darted rapidly around the room – no surprise that she was on the forefront of Falcon's mind. In another moment, the figure morphed into a short, long-haired woman in a flowing gown – Peach of course. Then Ike, judging by the broad shoulders and spiky hair, and then...Falcon's gaze faltered as the flickering flames took the shape of a tall, brooding individual, slightly hunched, apparently clad in a merc suit. The details were absent, but both Falcon and Lucario knew who it was. The flames began to flair up, turning magenta, then bluish-purple, before evaporating. The room was completely dark for a few seconds before Lucario restored the light.

"Huh…," he grunted sheepishly, apparently at a loss for words. His eyes stared into Falcon's for a while before he spoke again. "I've…never seen it do that before. Besides this morning, have you been suffering lapses in concentration or sleep complications?"

Falcon thought hard about how he should answer that question. Fortunately for him, he never got the opportunity. Just moments later, a firm rapping emanated from the door. Eager for an out, Falcon stood up and made a methodical stride to the entrance of the room. His body was still sore from the morning's vigorous activities and already he felt bruises begin to swell beneath the tightness of his suit. He swung the door open, expecting to see Pikachu or Meta Knight, or another of Lucario's familiar associates. He was surprised to instead find Sheik.

"Ah, here you are," she muttered in a soft, gruff tone. Falcon stepped back to bid her entry, but she remained in the hall, leaning slightly on the arch of the door. She crossed her arms indignantly. "I'll not be long. The Master's looking for you. He mentioned why, but I don't remember. Sorry."

Falcon puzzled, wondering what the Master would want to see _him_ about. Then he remembered the door from last night. The memory of swiftly crushing the pass lock underfoot flitted through the bounty hunter's mind, eliciting a smirk.

"Captain Falcon will keep an eye out for him," he said as he began to close the door. Sheik, clearly not quite finished, kept it open.

"I'd also keep an eye out for Samus. She didn't talk to me much after your fight this morning, but she didn't seem too happy with the way you just sped off after she owned your ass."

Falcon's smirk dropped. Despite his annoyance at the morning's turn of events, there was a streak of remorse in his frustration. He hadn't honored Samus's victory the way he should. And _that_ was quite un-Falconlike. Without another word, he nodded. The sheikah promptly turned about and crept silently down the hall, and out of sight. Captain Falcon closed the door and returned to Lucario, who had since extinguished the incense. The _Pokémon_ sat down on his bed _,_ lifted his foot and, with a wince, began massaging it with some of the ash remaining in the burning tray. Captain Falcon took note of the scar tissue that had formed around Lucario's toe. It had healed up quite well, all things considered.

"Some days are better than others. Though I must say, it's damned my balance terribly," Lucario grunted. Then he chuckled. "Seems that even old wounds never heal quite right. The only two things that can't be fixed: missing limbs and broken hearts."

The bounty hunter frowned at his comrade's statement, brushing his fingers over the area of his helmet that covered his eye scar. Though never exactly the most palatable "friend" around, Lucario had always been an incredible help to everyone in the mansion. Sure, some _Smash!_ ers may have been around longer, but the day Lucario arrived (and though he didn't look it at first), people found that they suddenly had someone they could approach without fear of embarrassment. Truly, Lucario had the gift of everyone's trust in the mansion, and for such a sullen recluse, that was quite unusual. He spoke again after a long time.

"Everyone always gets so caught up in the allure of wisdom, and they're blinded to the burden it brings with it. You understand. You don't think I can feel it? It eats at you, and you do so well to keep it hidden. None of the others see it like I do. Perhaps it is better that they don't. Perhaps not. But you can't hide from _yourself_ , Doug. Guilt, regret, anguish…it'll consume you."

Falcon cracked a smile at Lucario. He was a good man. Err…beast. Well, whatever he was, he was good.

"Perhaps Captain Falcon could train with you. He and Lucario might become stronger if they helped each other!"

Lucario grinned. "I'd appreciate that. But now, I must rest. Meet me tomorrow morning in the training room. I have a thing or two I'd like to teach you about the Aura."

Falcon checked his watch. _2:30,_ he thought to himself. _He should still be there._ With a salute, Falcon departed Lucario's room and made his way towards the office of the Master Hand.

* * *

"DO YOU THINK THIS A JOKE? ARE YOU AMUSED?!" The crackling, wrathful bellow of the Master was an immense contrast compared to his normally cool, haughty voice. Falcon just stood there, a smug grin on his face. It took every ounce of nerve available for him not to break out into a fiendish cackle. He didn't even flinch when one of the Master's immaculate white gloves launched a cup of pencils barreling off his desk, across the room, and into the wall with a subtle thud. His eyes were bloodshot, his black trench coat disheveled, his teeth barred, and his hair, which normally hung in a dignified, silver tuft on top of his head, was now a smoldering, burgundy frizz. Yep. He was pissed.

"THIS MANSION WAS NOT BUILT IN A DAY. IT'S WELLBEING AND ORDERLINESS ARE A COMPLICATED PRODUCT OF PERSISTENT LABOR AND DILIGENCE. IF YOU INSIST ON PRANCING ABOUT THE HALLS LIKE A DRUNK SIMPLETON, _AT LEAST_ DO SO WITHOUT DAMAGING THE PROPERTY I HAVE SO GRACIOUSLY PROVIDED YOU. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

Falcon raised his arms and shrugged. Normally, pressing one's luck with the Master Hand was unwise, but Falcon was (obviously) a daredevil. Besides, if he was _dangerously_ angry, he'd have transformed back into a disembodied white hand. It took quite a lot of self-control to hold shape as a humanoid. The Master's carnal rage burned in his face. His face was so red, he looked sunburned. Finally, the bounty hunter spoke up in his defense.

"Captain Falcon wished only to gain access to his room. The door lock would not bid him entrance…He was forced to improvise."

Falcon ducked this time as the Master hurled the broken passcode lock directly over his head. It lodged itself firmly into the wall behind the bounty hunter, now twice as crippled as it was the night before when Falcon dropkicked it off his door.

"THAT'S WHAT I THINK OF YOUR "IMPROVISATION" YOU VIOLENT, SENSELESS APE!"

Falcon tried not to laugh at the irony. He was about to break when the door to the office flew opened. In walked Samus who, judging by the expression on her face, Falcon determined was also "in trouble" over something. She grunted in his general direction before facing the Master's desk. Falcon watched as her feet came together, hands clasped behind her back, very military-like. She was wearing a light cargo jacket and denim jeans, and he, still clad in his tight, uncomfortable flight suit, envied that she found time to shower and change since this morning's match.

"Ms. Aran, wait outside please. I'm not ready to see you yet," The Master muttered in slightly calmer voice. But she didn't budge.

"Respectfully, sir, I'm late getting somewhere. I'm sure the Captain wouldn't mind stepping outside for a few moments."

The Master sighed. His fury boiled in his eyes as his gaze returned to his first victim.

"Captain Falcon would like to reassure Samus that she is not interrupting anything," Falcon mused gruffly. Then he turned to the Master. "He also promises to try and refrain from further dismantling the _Smash!_ mansion, including its shoddily-designed, two-bit door locks."

Before the Master could drive him into the ground for his insolent comment, the bounty hunter promptly sauntered out of the room. He would have to apologize to Samus for his post-match behavior some other time, but judging by how aloof she acted just moments ago, it was doubtful she even cared. Nevertheless, he needed to right his wrongs. There was nothing chivalrous about grudges, withholding congratulations on a well-fought duel, acting sore due to a loss…Falcon smiled as his thoughts turned to his personal honor code. It satisfied his anxious mind to know, even amid his imbalance, he could count on that to hold him together.

Soon, the captain found himself roaming the halls again. It wasn't his fault; after his morning fight with Samus, his agenda for the rest of the day was completely clear. On top of that, he expected he'd spend the rest of the day celebrating his victory. Defeat was an alternative outcome he rarely planned for, if at all. He looked down at his watch. _3pm_. Before long, he had reached the heart of the mansion once again. The commons were quite empty this afternoon. Other _Smash!_ ers must have been fighting in, or watching, matches. Falcon walked into the kitchen at the back of the lounge and poured himself a glass of cold water. He hadn't realized how dehydrated he was until he lifted the glass of icy liquid to his mouth. A refreshing wave of new life surged through his body like electricity. As he walked back into the main area of the commons, he realized that he had completely missed Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf lounging on the sofas, playing video games and talking. It was truly a miracle of Falcon's own obliviousness; Link's grunts, cackles, and yells were so loud, they could undoubtedly be heard in the courtyard.

"…and that's game, bitch! Ha! You got owned!" The snobbish youth socked the Prince of Darkness himself right in the arm, who simply set down his controller and sighed in exasperation. Link was unrelenting.

"That was honestly pathetic. My grandmother plays better than you. Remember _Wind Waker_ , when she used to be so fucking sick? I had to go _out of my way_ while fighting you to save her, and I _still_ wrecked your ass in the end."

"Uh, hello? You did have help for that one," Zelda interjected, although the other two didn't seem to notice. Ganondorf wasn't going to take much more of this verbal abuse without a response. A response that would likely get physical. And Falcon saw Zelda realize that. Unfortunately, her wisdom wouldn't be enough to convince Link not to pick a fight. Truthfully, "Triforce of Courage" was "Triforce of Cockish-Arrogance" beyond their game franchise.

"Alright, Link, that's enough. Besides, he can't just win in any of our games. He's always the villain," she said. Falcon had never thought about that before. The reason _Smash!_ was so great was that everyone got the chance to be the hero in the spotlight, if only occasionally. Winning brawls and teaming up without resorting to good guy-bad guy agendas had really brought the Nintendo community together. At least, it had for those invited.

"So? He's still awful. He's low as fuck on the tier list!" Link just wouldn't shut up. "When was the last time you even won a match?"

Falcon watched as Ganondorf's hand shot out immediately, grabbing the obnoxious elf by the throat with such agility, Zelda leapt out of her seat. The captain's smirk dropped and he momentarily considered whether he should intervene. On the other hand, Link had it coming. Hell, Link _always_ had it coming. The Hero of Time's snide remarks rapidly turned to gasps and choking noises. After a few moments of him writhing under the Gerudo's grip, Ganondorf pulled Link's face biting distance away from his own, and growled, "Tomorrow morning, I'm scheduling an unranked match. Just the two of us. Bridge of Eldin. And I will beat your sorry ass so hard, you'll be in the infirmary for a week. _Then_ we'll see who's low as fuck on the tier list."

Ganondorf flung Link across the room at the cost of, by some miracle, not a single piece of furniture. Link ran up to the second floor, desperate to hide his embarrassment. Zelda was gaping in shock. After a few moments, the stunned silence was promptly broken.

"Well, Captain Falcon will certainly look forward to a week without crude, childish vulgarity!" the bounty hunter shouted heartily, taking another swig of his water.

Zelda's eyes widened as Ganon remained motionless for a while. Then, suddenly, he began to smile. Then, his smile became a chuckle, and then a full-blown laugh. Zelda started laughing with him, and before long, the two of them were hysterical. Falcon smiled as he left the room. Sometimes, it would seem, he knew just the right thing to say.

* * *

The water soaked deep into Falcon's pores, absorbing into his bruises and alleviating him of his ails. He twisted the knob at the base of the shower, turning it off, and stepped out of the bowled basin to dry himself with a towel. The large mirror across the room conveyed an image that made him look better than he felt. His eye scar, a thin sliver, felt like it took up his whole face. He couldn't tell if the throbbing in his head and legs was real, but he wished that it would stop. After a few moments of silent brooding, the bounty hunter departed the bathroom and made his way back to his apartment. He heard a slew of indistinct voices coming from the rooms as he passed, and the commons sounded a bit livelier than this afternoon.

Falcon approached his door, taking notice that the passkey lock had been replaced since this morning. He rolled his eyes and drew his card, attempting, as he promised the Master that he would, to do things the "respectable" way. To his legitimate surprise, the door opened for him after a single try. The room was dark, but not dark enough for him to turn on a light. He would only be a moment anyway. The racer dropped his suit on his bed and pulled the first two articles of clothing he saw out of his closet; A slate-colored, collarless polo and loose pair of jeans. He also grabbed the black leather jacket at the back of his collection. For warmth, of course. After sliding into his pair of street converse, he left the room and dropped his suit into the wash depository at the end of the hall before making his way downstairs.

It was 4:30, and by the look of the crew in the lounge, everyone was in for the rest of the day. Mario and Luigi were lounging on the sofas with Peach and Bowser Jr., eyeing an…interesting…interaction between the King Koopa and Rosalina taking place in the back corner. The bulk of the action appeared to be happening toward the bar area. King Dedede was conversing with Meta Knight and Ganondorf on one end, Link with Marth and Pit on the other end. Zelda sat in the middle, seemingly a physical barrier to the two groups, chatting up Game and Watch, who was tending bar (for some reason that nobody understood, he seemed to enjoy it as a hobby). Megaman, Pacman, and Little Mac, along with a few other seasonal newcomers, sat in the back of the room, hearing either stories or fighting tips from Pikachu and Lucario. Across the courtyard, Falcon saw Ike talking to Palutena, but he promptly broke away from the (intimate?) conversation when Fox and Falco stepped on the scene. Truthfully, the only _Smash!_ er who's absence was glaring was Samus's. Was she still talking to the Master Hand?

Falcon strode over to the bar, leaning directly adjacent to Zelda. They exchanged glances, mutually recounting the events that had unfolded in the lounge an hour or two before. Game and Watch waltzed over to his new patron, cleaning a black, 2D glass with a black, 2D cloth. Falcon respected and envied how carefree and jovial the little cartoon could be at times.

"What can I get for you this evening?" the flat character inquired in his nasally voice.

"Captain Falcon is feeling adventurous tonight! He'll take a dry martini!" the bounty hunter replied. Game and Watch set down the glass he'd been wiping and it magically returned to its 3D state. Then he nodded before choppily strutting away. Falcon would have been happy to wait for his drink in silence, contemplating the events of the day, but Zelda had conversation in mind.

"So," she said breathily. She had obviously had "a drink or two". "Have you apologized to her yet?"

Falcon shook his head, following it with a brief glance around the room.

"I know, she's not here," Zelda replied to his gesture. "I haven't seen or spoken to her all afternoon. She wasn't too happy about the match. She didn't celebrate, she didn't even grin. You running off like that didn't help her mood. Now…I think she feels delegitimized or something."

Game and Watch returned with Falcon's martini. Apparently, the mere arrival of the drink was enough to open the bounty hunter up a little bit.

"Captain Falcon can relate," he said flatly.

Zelda must have found that amusing, because she chuckled a bit. "Y'know, nobody gets you Falcon. I think I can understand that. I mean, look at me; I've got a lot to be thankful for. Without _Smash!_ I probably wouldn't have _any_ friends. I'd just be stuck running around with Ganondorf, a Lord of Evil that can't keep his hands off me—"

"Hey!" The Gerudo interjected, apparently overhearing the conversation a seat or two away. Falcon smiled. You wouldn't think it, but Zelda could get loud when inebriated.

"Just doing my job," Ganondorf said modestly. It was true; out-of-character, he was pretty gentlemanly and calm. The brooding, evil thing was mostly part of the gig.

"No offense," Zelda recovered, "and Link; the decorated 'Hero of Time'. Ha! More like…," she broke into a mumble briefly. Captain Falcon got her message though, which was basically that Link was a little twat. He swirled the martini in his glass before downing it in a single gulp. It was a tad stronger than he expected it to be.

"Captain Falcon is feeling a bit tired. He's going up to his room to relax now," the bounty hunter said.

Zelda gave him a dreary stare. Almost like she was going to ask something suggestive of him. It would have been a tad inappropriate. Falcon decidedly trudged away before she could open her mouth. He was about to pass underneath the arch separating the main lobby and the lounge when the Master rounded the corner, almost piling into him.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Lead-Foot," the Master muttered. "You know, I don't much appreciate people waltzing out of my office when I'm trying to teach them a lesson."

Falcon just stood there, barely listening. He had found in the past that the Master really likes the sound of his own voice, so if you just politely wait for him to unload a 10-minute lecture of him beating off his ego, he'll get right over whatever's bothering him.

"I know you think you're invincible around here, but everyone has to follow the rules and demonstrate due respect. And nobody is exempt, believe me! Why, if I started exempting people like you, Douglas, the rest of the cast would want to be treated special, and furthermore…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Falcon saw Samus walking across the lobby toward the entrance, eyeing warily around her. It looked like she didn't want anyone to notice her sneaking out. What was she doing? Falcon briefly locked eyes with her as she reached the door.

"…so, to make matters clear, I'm not all that upset about what happened. Rather, it was the principle of your actions that frustrated me. But I can count on you to set an example of respect to the other _Smash!_ ers from now on, right?"

It took a few moments for Falcon to realize the Master had still been talking that entire time. Before he could respond, Samus slunk quietly out the front entrance of the mansion. The bounty hunter promptly broke for the door.

"Hey! Where are you—? Y'know this is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about! Ugh!"

Falcon barely heard the disgruntled Master's mutterings over his own thoughts. He didn't quite know why he was chasing after Samus, nor did he know where she was going. But he suspected that he would find out soon enough.


End file.
